Sign of Weakness
by Zan65
Summary: It was impossible for life to go on as normal after the events of 'Bury Your Dead'.


Sign Of Weakness

Sign Of Weakness

Tony sat at his desk with the intention of burying himself in some 'paperwork'. He desperately wanted and needed the distraction. He'd not slept a wink the previous night. In fact he couldn't recall when he'd last slept more than an hour. Jeanne's words and her disbelief that he had ever had genuine feelings for her had cut him deeply. Tony Dinozzo was nowhere near as shallow as he would have most people believe him to be. Some classic westerns had kept him company the last few nights – the kind with corny lines but no hints of romance. Tony hoped the paperwork would be as effective at keeping his mind off anything to do with the undercover case.

As he moved his hand to turn on his monitor, however, Tony froze. The silver I.D. bracelet – the gift that had been a beautiful blend of humor and sentiment – emerged from his sleeve and mocked him.

Ziva and McGee had nodded their greetings to Tony as he had entered the office. He had nodded back before sitting at his desk. It was then that they had exchanged puzzled glances. Tony had not been expected at work by either of them. The secret undercover operation had unraveled and the fall-out had been dramatic. Surely some personal time off was needed, particularly by Tony. At the very least, Ziva was convinced Tony would need some time to mourn the loss of his car. In fact, McGee privately wished _**Gibbs**_ would take a few days leave instead of storming around the bullpen and into the Director's office with what looked like murderous intent.

The three agents settled down to their duties for some minutes until Ziva caught sight of Tony's stricken face out of the corner of her eye. She ceased moving her fingers across her keyboard. Sensing the stillness, McGee looked to Ziva and then to where Ziva was staring – at Tony.

All of Tony's senses had been overwhelmed by memories of Jeanne and the love he had felt from and for her. She had loved him for who he was. He had changed very little of himself for the undercover role. Now he was back to where he was before the assignment – with no-one to go to after a traumatic case. What had he done before Jeanne? What had he done after they had lost Kate? He couldn't and didn't want to remember. To the consternation of Ziva and McGee, Tony placed his arm across his desk and his head in the crook of his elbow. To the horror of his colleagues, Tony began weeping softly and quietly. This was unknown territory was Ziva and McGee. 'Dinozzos don't cry,' Tony had informed them vehemently on a number of occasions. No-one could even say for sure that he had shed a tear when it had seemed likely that he would die from the plague.

McGee, his eyes round and worried, looked questioningly at Ziva. She moved, Ninja-like, to McGee's side and mouthed: 'What?'

'We can't just leave him there…crying,' mouthed back McGee. 'What if Gibbs comes back from MTAC? He's been on the warpath all week.'

'Should we call Abby?' whispered Ziva, reaching for the phone.

'Maybe we should just leave,' whispered McGee, 'and give him some privacy.'

Suddenly the elevator doors opened and Gibbs strode in like a lion returning to his den. The ex-marine quickly took in the scene: two agents standing like stunned mullets and one agent obviously overcome and upset at his desk. Gibbs' face darkened. McGee gulped and elbowed Ziva.

'Told you,' he hissed. 'Now Tony's in trouble.'

Gibbs marched to his own desk and put down his files before approaching Tony.

'What is _**wrong**_ with you people?' he admonished Ziva and McGee as he knelt beside Tony's seat. To Ziva's and McGee's amazement, Gibbs placed his arm across Tony's shoulders and gently drew him into an embrace. The fact that Tony didn't immediately try to compose himself upon the arrival of his Boss told the story of how distressed he was.

'Get Ducky,' Gibbs told Ziva. 'McGee, get the brandy from my drawer,' he added as he continued to give Tony physical support and, hopefully, comfort. Once the brandy and a glass were on the desk in front of him and he knew that Ducky was on his way, Gibbs turned his attention back to Ziva and McGee. He realized that they would not have felt comfortable seeing Tony come apart before their eyes, but Tony's feelings were the only ones he was concerned about sparing at that moment.

'Leave,' he told them, 'and not to see Abby. Leave her be. I'll talk to her later.' With that, Gibbs used his free arm to undo the brandy and pour a generous amount into the glass. When he looked up again, the other two agents had obediently left.

Tony's tears had subsided a little and his grip on Gibb's shirt had become less intense. Gibbs was acutely aware of how self-conscious Tony would feel once he came back to himself but there was just no way of fixing some things. Tony would just have to deal with it.

Ducky arrived just as Tony was drawing himself away from Gibbs. He looked disorientated and his hair was sticking up where Gibbs had ruffled it.

'My dear boy!' exclaimed Ducky, softly. Tony stared at Ducky and then at Gibbs- his Boss, Gibbs – whose shirt he was still clenching.

'Oh God!' he said, letting go and shrinking back. 'Boss, I'm sor…'

'Sign of weakness, Tony,' Gibbs admonished him gruffly, shaking his head.

'Yeah? And crying all over you isn't?' countered Tony.

'No, it's not,' interjected Ducky, placing his hand against Dinozzo's forehead, looking for any outward signs of illness. 'It's a necessary release after a trauma, such as you have experienced. And it's healthier than drowning your sorrows at home on your own,' he added. Tony swiped quickly at his face to remove the moisture, but he could do nothing about the swollen eyes or his deathly white pallor.

Gibbs pushed the glass towards Tony's hands. He was deeply concerned at how affected the younger man was. Gibbs would never have allowed Tony to have been put in such a situation had he been privy to the case. Despite his juvenile antics, Dinozzo was a sensitive soul and should not have been exploited by Jenny. He did not deserve to be the collateral damage as she sought vengeance for her father.

Tony attempted to pick up the glass with Ducky's urging, but his hand shook, threatening to spill the contents. Gibbs removed the glass from the younger man's attempted grasp, and held it to Tony's lips. Mortified but grateful, Tony took a swig before nodding to Gibbs that he had had enough. Tony leaned heavily back in his chair and sighed before coughing. Ducky hoped the cough was not a precursor to something worse.

'When did you last sleep?' Ducky asked him, eyeing the younger man closely. Tony shrugged and his eyes began to fill up again. 'N-not last night,' he managed. 'And eat?' Ducky pressed. Tony studied his hands and shrugged. Gibbs resisted the urge to slap Tony upside the head into next week for being so neglectful of himself. But if he were totally honest with himself, Gibbs could vaguely remember forgetting his own personal needs until a particularly vile case had been solved. Gibbs watched as Ducky placed a hand gently on the back of Tony's neck. It was an affectionate gesture as were his words.

'My dear boy, without sleep and decent food, you'll make yourself ill. Things must seem very bleak to you now, but rest and food will improve your spirits.'

Gibbs cast his memory back to the last time he had been in Dinozzo's apartment. It had seemed to his trained investigator's eye that Tony used the apartment as not much more than a pit stop. The living room had looked comfortable enough with its plasma television and impressive range of movie titles, but the kitchen had not been well-stocked and he knew for a fact that the heating often decided not to work. He could not imagine a depressed Tony looking after himself properly there. Gibbs doubted he'd trust Dinozzo to look after _anything_ in his current frame of mind, let alone himself.

'I'll take him home with me,' Gibbs announced to Ducky. 'Wait with him while I finish off a few things,' he added as he went off to his own desk.

'That's a grand idea!' enthused Ducky.

'Hey!' protested Tony, indignation returning some of his usual spark. 'Don't I get a say? I'll be fine at my place.'

'No, you don't get a say,' Gibbs told him without looking up from his computer screen. Tony turned his attention to Ducky who simply shook his head.

'I'm afraid Gibbs is right, Anthony,' he told him. 'You really shouldn't be on your own for a couple of days. And I would really hate to admit you to hospital for some enforced bed rest.'

Tony slumped down again in defeat and looked up at the ceiling. This was _so not _how he had expected time at work to turn out.

After a short time, Gibbs had finished barking orders into the phone and switched off his computer.

'Okay, let's go,' he said gruffly to Tony. He sounded aggravated but Ducky knew Gibbs was very concerned about the whole situation. He hoped Gibbs would be able to soften his manner towards Dinozzo. The younger man seemed more fragile than he'd ever seen him, except for during the dreadful plague incident.

Tony used the desk to ease himself up, and this did not go unnoticed by either of the older men. Ducky slipped his arm through Tony's and led him slowly to the elevator.

'Duck… you don't have to,' said Tony softly.

'Just promise me you'll rest properly,' was Ducky's response. Tony managed a nod and could feel his eyes threatening to fill again in response to the almost fatherly gestures Ducky was displaying towards him. Tony was determined not to break down in the office all over again.

The drive to Gibbs' house was silent. Tony chose to shut his eyes and lean back against the head rest. He didn't have the energy to talk about anything. He knew Gibbs hated small talk almost as much as deep discussion, so Tony gave them both an 'out'. Maybe he could avoid conversation for the entire length of his stay with Gibbs. It didn't seem like a bad plan. Talk, especially about his own feelings, never seemed to lead him to happy places anyway. He let his mind drift as the sound of the engine lulled him.

Suddenly Tony was aware of a hand gently shaking him by the shoulder. He opened his eyes a crack and met Gibbs' concerned gaze.

'What?' he managed to mumble, disorientated.

'We're here,' Gibbs told him quietly. 'It's okay. Take your time waking up.'

A quiet, patient Gibbs was so unnatural it set off alarm bells in Tony's head. He rubbed at his eyes and opened the car door with his other hand.

'I'm good,' he managed as he hurriedly got out. Before he knew it, Gibbs was at his elbow guiding him up the stairs to his front door.

'Boss', he objected, 'I'm fine.' Gibbs waited until they were both standing at the top of the stairs before facing Tony.

'No, Tony, you are NOT fine. You are emotionally, mentally and physically exhausted and you need some help. Now, I'm GONNA help you whether you like it or not, so get used to the idea or I'm calling Bethesda.' He then opened the unlocked door and gave his senior field agent a firm shove inside.

'Go take a shower,' he ordered. 'I'll leave some clothes for you in the guest room.' Tony obeyed, having resigned himself to his fate. He didn't really think that Gibbs would be so heartless as to send him to hospital, but he was too tired to argue or to put on an act. He was sick of pretending. And the thought of having a shower felt good.

When Tony emerged from the bathroom, towel around his waist, he found the guest room. On the bed was a set of sweats, socks and a robe. The sight actually made him smile a little as it caused him to remember the housekeeper his family had hired when he was a boy. Rosa had been very kind and thoughtful. She would put out Tony's school uniform for him and leave a treat in one of his pockets for him to discover later. But then his father had sacked her. Tony shook his head slightly to prevent any subsequent memories of that time to flood in. He dressed quickly. The sweats Gibbs had left proved to be a little short in the legs and arms, but they felt warm and comforting.

'Kitchen!' came Gibbs' voice from downstairs. Tony followed the scent of toast, bacon and eggs. He sat where Gibbs indicated he should. A generous serving of food was set before him. Gibbs sat opposite him with a coffee mug in his hand, but there was no food in front of him.

'What about you?' Tony asked, uncomfortably.

'Not hungry,' Gibbs stated.

'Neither am I really,' returned Tony.

'Yeah, but I happened to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner yesterday and breakfast this morning. You can't even remember the last time you had a meal. Eat.'

Tony gave up and began to tuck into what he would have ordinarily described as delicious, home-cooked food. He actually was a little hungry but swallowing was difficult. The lump in his throat seemed to have taken up permanent residence there, but he was reluctant to not comply with a direct order from Gibbs.

Gibbs pretended to be reading the newspaper but he took the time to scrutinize Tony closely. The wearing of the slightly small sweats emphasized Tony's youthful looks more than the designer suits he usually wore. His hair, damp from the shower, curled endearingly here and there. Gibbs could not go past, however, the darkness under Tony's eyes, the pallor of his skin and the way his hands were trembling slightly as he held the cutlery. Gibbs took a swig of coffee and inwardly cursed Jenny, once again, for using Tony in such a reckless way. And the whole situation was made much, much worse by the fact that Gibbs had grown to be protective of his senior field agent in a very paternal way. He had seen glimpses of Dinozzo's crappy childhood and pathetic relationship with his own father. Gibbs didn't believe in mollycoddling agents or offspring, but if someone didn't look after Tony at a time like this, there was a good chance that the younger man would spiral downwards and out of control. And the thought of that happening churned Gibbs' gut.

Tony had eaten half of what was on his plate and put the knife and fork down. As much as he assumed that Gibbs wanted him to finish it all, he just couldn't.

'Had enough?' asked Gibbs, gruffly.

'Sorry Boss. Not really hungry.'

Gibbs put down his mug and gave Tony his sternest look.

'Stop apologizing, Dinozzo. You gave it your best shot.' In fact, it was a statement that he hoped Dinozzo would understand on more than one level. Tony gave a scant nod and ran his fingers wearily through his damp hair.

'Bed,' said Gibbs, standing up and clearing the table of the plate and mug. 'And don't give me any bull about not being tired. You look like crap.' After putting the dishes on the sink, he turned back to see that Tony had already gone. Without argument. Without a smart comment or a joke. Things were apparently worse than Gibbs had thought.

Some time later, Gibbs went to check on his guest. Tony had managed to fall asleep with his head and most of his body on the bed, but with his legs half off it. Gibbs gently maneuvered Tony's long legs onto the bed and covered him with the blankets. Tony stirred slightly but remained asleep. Gibbs drew the curtains and left, leaving the door ajar.

It would take him, Gibbs mused, a long time to get over the fact that Tony had not confided in him about the Frog, Jeanne and the whole Tony Dinardo operation – despite the direct orders Dinozzo had been given by The Director. Gibbs secretly liked to think that Tony saw him as a kind of mentor, but perhaps that was all in Gibbs' imagination. Mentors are there to be consulted and to give advice during trying times, and Tony had not gone to Gibbs, even when things had gone really bad. He had left Gibbs out in the cold.

Gibbs sometimes found himself wishing that Tony would spend less time playing Tetris and antagonizing McGee, and more time applying his excellent investigative skills, but Tony was Tony and Gibbs was determined to always have his six, as he hoped Tony would always watch his. And if having Tony's six meant making sure he slept and ate properly and helping him to forgive himself for crushing Jeanne's feelings, then that's what Gibbs was determined to do. And if it meant having a number of difficult conversations, he'd do his best.


End file.
